


Antidote

by krush



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krush/pseuds/krush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were all pregnant with blood,  all his to bleed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antidote

Antidote

Everything was covered in redness that swirled and twisted as an unknown source of illumination reflected off its oily surface. It oozed and churned thickly over any exposed surface. 

Red. That was all he could see, feel, smell and taste. 

Red. It consumed his thoughts and drowned his emotions.

Red. It was the only thing that drove him with one blind determination; to kill, drain the life out of anything or anyone who was unfortunate enough to stumble upon his path. 

They were all pregnant with blood, all his to bleed, to feel life seeping out of them. He cannot remember what life was like beyond the blind want. He loved it even more when black accompanied the splash of crimson. Then it repelled and elevated him to unrivaled heights. Filled him with fire and tireless energy, drove that determination to lay bloody sacrifices at his feet. He felt powerful, damn near invincible as the unfortunate person or thing lay under his feet in torn bits, no longer recognizable. When black came it brought the abyss with it. Then red and black conglomerated and swallowed him whole, bled him to the floor till what was left behind was a husk of his former self. Even then his veins pulsed with an insatiable mind numbing need to kill.

A hand gripped his shoulder and nudged him to move forward. The blackness receded for a glorious second. Light tore into his retinas and almost ruptured his eyeballs as it burned a path to his very soul. He blinked severally adjusting to the light which he noticed came from a lamp that had been dialed down considerably. He followed the hand that held him tight. It was attached to a giant with floppy hair and eyes that were brown with splashes of gold and hints of blues mixed with greens. He could almost recognize this man but his head was still floating in a sea of red superimposed in black. Memories danced close enough to be captured but then sprinted back to the fringes of his mind where they were swallowed up by darkness.  
The hand went away and before he could utter a word of protest, the abyss rushed forward and dragged him back where it wanted him. Descended him back to the pit of darkness where raging flames and dripping blood crept up and into his skin. It attempted to pierce right to his soul and erase that hint of illumination. He could taste spewed ash from burning flesh while hell screeched and hissed around him. Voices, millions of voices, wailed and called out to him, called him to join in the symphony of damnation. A rumble of protest bubbled up from his chest and tore out of his lips in a wounded whimper. For a second he comprehended a greater need than the one plaguing his mind. He needed to go back to that man he had glimpsed. He almost recognized him but his muddled mind could not immediately place him. His gut screamed out to him to chase after his salvation, be where he should be.

When he came to he found himself laid down on a hard knobby mattress that bit into his back. He was completely naked with the giant of a man between his bent knees, mouth filled to bursting with his cock. Then it all came rushing back; the Mark of Cain, killing Abaddon and turning into the vile Thing that he was now. And Sam… it was Sam that was sucking his cock! Somehow, somewhere along the road he had twisted his brother into committing the worst of taboos. He could not hold himself accountable for his actions amidst the different shades of red that spun his recent reality.

Dean did not panic. He did not have it in him to contemplate the morality of what he woke up to or the lack thereof. He moaned low and dirty prompting Sam to tear his eyes from the sleek glistening cock just beyond his lips.

“Take it Sammy, all of it. I know you can,” Dean ground out after a particularly hard suck that made the room swim for a second. His hips involuntarily thrust upwards to feed his brother several more inches of his pulsing length. He felt like a man going through withdrawals and has just found his drug of choice. Sam filled his veins and made the shakes and dark cravings go away, made him see clearly. Made him want to stay here and not crawl back to the darkness even as it whispered and promised to fulfill his darkest dreams. And God help him, he wanted to bathe in blood, feel it trickle down his fists in reckless abandon. 

Sam met Dean’s eyes and as always he did not like how Dean was looking at him. The greens were too bright, glinting with sinister light as they stared down at him. This was immediately followed by an upward curve of his lips, teeth bared in a knowing smile. Despite the desperate panic that threatened to spill out of him in a scream, Sam’s heart always fluttered back in response. Deep, deep down, Sam liked this more than he strictly should, considering the circumstances that led them to this particular point in time.

_______________________________________________________________________

It started out with simple touches, mostly to check if either of them was donning physical emblems of victory from the last monster hunt. That is what they always do; check each other out for injuries. 

He noticed that the demon left when he touched Dean, went to sleep or to fucking Narnia for all he knew. But for short spurts of time, Sam had Dean back. Unfathomable black was replaced by vibrant greens. For those few heavenly moments of reprieve Dean was able to function as his old self.

The kiss was an accident. Sam had been looking at a nasty injury on Dean’s cheek which was sure to scar if he did not tend to it hastily. Dean was blabbing about something or other and when Sam did not reply he had turned his head and their lips brushed. Sam had meant to move away but his body disobeyed and froze. Sitting this close he could not help notice his brother was losing the battle. He could see it in his eyes, in the way he held himself. His resolve to fight the Thing was wearing thin. It was reeling him in, inch by sure inch. One day he might not come back at all. No matter how much or how long Sam touched him. The flood of blind fear he’d been pushing down crashed through. Muted green eyes stared back, brimming with understanding. An uncontrollable urge to keep Dean to himself spurred him to lean further forward and cover the other mans lips with his own.

The coupling of lips and tongue was angry and sad at first, turned slow and lingering at the end, communicating desperation and happiness. Dean’s response was slower, but finally he replied to Sam’s call with tilted head, open lips and a suggestion of tongue. After that the demon had been gone for weeks. 

_____________________________________________________________________

The next logical course of action was to fuck and determine how long the Thing would stay away. 

Dean reached down with one hand and swept hair out of Sam’s face. This way, he was able to see how Sam’s glistened lips were stretched thin over his hardness. He thrust upwards once more smiling when his cock brushed the back of Sam’s throat and made him gag.

“Gonna fuck your big brother? Fill me up with your cock, huh, Sammy?” his emptiness was palpable, it yawned in front of him endless and unforgiving and his Sammy was the only one who could fill it.

Sam released him with a wet pop, licked his lips slowly and kept his eyes locked on Dean. He proceeded to slide a lubed hand inside the older man without preamble and twisted. Dean lifted his head to look at the sight below him eyes glossed over in lust. He watched as Sam increased the number of fingers ramming into him from two to three. He was at full attention, thick cock turning purple and angry. It bobbed and gushed precome saluting Sam and begging to be touched. Dean trailed a hand down, he needed to touch himself or he was going to die. 

Sam slapped the wandering hand away; he positioned himself just inches from the eager hole where he wanted to bury himself. He was ready and poised to enter his brother and the anticipation alone made sweat bead all over his skin and fall down in fat drops. 

He understood that he had a lot explanation to do when Dean was healed. And for all he knew this was the older man’s first time and had to be eased into it especially seeing as his consent was more implied than given.

“Come on, baby. Open up for me. You always do,” Sam cajoled, pulling Dean towards his length. He was still tight enough to warrant some force to get himself in. He pressed hard, wriggling a bit and watched the ring of muscle spread beautifully to receive his head. 

Dean shuddered with the effort of restraining himself from grabbing his cock. Sam was pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in and Dean wanted to crawl out if his skin from the feel of it.

Sam’s hips rolled and thrust into Dean of its own accord. He leaned forward, curving into an exaggerated bow and swallowed Dean in one long swipe of lips and tongue and a hint of teeth. This round he took his time savoring the resilient rigid muscle, slurping and swallowing around its tip. He continued to hammer into his brother grunting intermittently with the effort of fucking and sucking simultaneously. His throat contracted in an aborted deep throat sending ripples of endorphins down Dean’s spine and to his toes which curled in pleasure.

Dean did not know what to do with himself. He was aware of a different kind of power at play here; the power in submitting to the control of another. He surrendered himself completely to Sam, to be penetrated and possessed by him. He opened his legs wider and considered chopping them off if they got in the way of Sam’s cock and mouth. He was being ripped apart and filled in the most delicious way. Only he wished Sam had two cocks one to fill his ass and one for his mouth. The thought of bi-cocked Sam made him shudder and moan. He reached down and gripped the strands of hair tickling his abdomen. Spit flowed from Sam’s mouth as he flicked his tongue over the swollen flesh. God, that mouth! Dean threw his legs in the air, knees drawn up to his chest, giving it all up; his ass, his mind and his heart. In this moment they were one, skin to skin, soul to soul. Both driven by the need to be together and consumed by love.

Sam turned tornado drilling deeper and deeper into his brother, losing himself completely in the moist silky softness that was tightly wrapped around him. He raised his upper body and stared down as Dean’s stretched swollen pucker pulled him impossibly deeper, clutching and clenching in an unconscious attempt to keep him there. He wanted to dig a foundation and build himself a house there.

Sam felt sick but he liked this disease, never wanted to be cured of it. He wanted it to infect him, fester and die from the sheer wrongness that felt so good his insides turned and somersaulted. He wanted to vomit. He ran his hands down to stroke Dean’s legs and up where Dean’s hands were white knuckling the back of his knees to keep his legs apart. He continued further up to the chest where he found puckered nipples, hard as stone. He rubbed them between thumb and index finger till they rivaled diamonds. 

Lashes swept down to hide green marbles and perfect lips opened in a breathy moan. 

Giant hands continued up Dean’s neck, sweeping along velvet skin, and finally finding its primary objective. He curled them around the bared skin, thumbs stroking the Adams apple in slow circles. He then squeezed, fingers digging into the flesh and leaving red welts that were in sharp contrast to the milky paleness of Dean’s skin. He squeezed some more. His lovers face changed from milky white to pink to red, veins standing out angrily

Dean let him have everything, bucked his hips as Sam pounded home. They moved in perfect synchrony, sweat moistened bodies slapping against each other, muffled groans accompanying their horizontal dance. 

Sam released his hands and Dean let out a strangled groan when his orgasm tore out of him untouched, body twitching and spasming in rapid succession. Thick jets of milky whiteness spurted out of him and landed on his stomach. The power of it lifting him off the bed and crashing him back down in a whoosh of linen. Sam had a few seconds to savor how wanton and fucked out Dean looked before he too, was swept away in a tsunami of pleasure. Head thrown back, eyes rolled into his skull and mouth hung open in a silent scream. He exploded inside Dean in halfhearted thrusts as Dean’s ass continued to flutter around him.

Still hard and inside that maddening warm heat, Sam collapsed on top of Dean sliding a bit as Dean’s come squished between them. He was excruciatingly aware that this was a temporary solution to the problem at hand.

‘Dean, you are my demon, mine to save,” Sam whispered wetly into Dean’s ear.

Dean was limp and quiet. He shakily lifted his arms and weakly wrapped them around Sam molding their bodies impossibly closer.

“Whatever you say, Sammy,” Dean muttered without conviction. He could feel the blackness crouched low inside him, lurking, waiting for Sam to wear off then sprint forth and drag him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if it felt rushed and disjointed,


End file.
